ArchivedLogs:Proof Of Concept

Proof Of Concept
Dramatis Personae Jackson, Micah, Rasheed	16 November 2013 Good news on the clinical trial, at least. (Part of Infected TP.)
Location <NYC> The Mendel Clinic - Lower East Side
With its sharp crystalline edges and sleek lines knifing up into the sky, this building is one of the most /distinctive/ new additions to the neighborhood. An angular structure in glass and steel, the tall tower has a deceptively slender look to it that is belied by the heavy security as soon as you enter the doors. The front doors are frosted with the Clinic's logo -- a rising sun over a rod of Asclepius -- a motif echoed in many places throughout the building. Visitors to the clinic must first pass through a small mantrap, guarded by some of the Clinic's security guards; once they make it through the metal detector and airlock's double doors they emerge into the much more hospitable lobby. With dark wood floors underneath and comfortable black and red couches at its edges, the high windows give the room an airy feel. A bank of elevators to one side carry visitors to the many destination floors, while the wide welcome desk at the other side is manned by a security guard ready to help point visitors in the right direction. Jackson looks tired, when he slips down into Micah's room. He's been here and then gone again and now he is back, dirtier than before with blood spattered on his clothing and messy hair flopped over his forehead. His pale skin looks paler still in contrast to the dark fuzz of beard that's been growing, and his hands are slightly shaky on the tray he carries down -- two servings of hot cocoa. Micah looks up from something that he is watching on his computer screen as his hands work at knitting a small, half-finished blanket in a zigzag pattern of purple, blue, and white. He is dressed in his own clothes again: patched jeans, Batsignal hoodie, and white T-shirt depicting a T-rex with an adaptive reaching aid in each hand under the heading 'UNSTOPPABLE!' A smile brightens his features as he recognises Jax and not just another visit for /needling/. “Hey, hon. How are you doin'? Did you get food while y'were in the kitchen?” "I'm --" Jackson hesitates, moving over to set the tray down on a table beside Micah's bed. He takes a seat on the bed beside the other man, starting to curl in towards Micah but then straightening with one hand pressing down at his filthy shirt uncomfortably. "I took the kids back to school. They were -- Shane ain't. Doing so good." Oh look, there /is/ another visit for needling. Leave it to Rasheed to interrupt hot chocolate time with poking. He enters the room armed with alcohol swabs and an injector, glancing between the two men. "How are you feeling?" Coming from doctors busy experimenting on you, this question is rarely a formality. “What's wrong with Shane? Did he get hurt? Is it the illness...or just not enough food? Lucien actually had a good idea. Could get Joshua to take one of us outside the quarantine zone t'just /buy/ food and haul it back. Need t'get him some real meat.” Micah's teeth bite at his lower lip, trying to keep the worst of the worry off of his face and out of his voice. He finishes off his row, setting the knitting aside. He pushes the laptop closed before putting it away, as well. Many days as a lab rat have at least taught Micah how to summarise the medically relevant points in answer to that question. “Hello, Dr. Toure. Still fairly constant with the nausea an' headaches an' fatigue. Arms are achey, but...that many injections is gonna irritate anybody. Confusion ain't been as much as problem. Ain't had any language issues, but been avoidin' the words we know as much as I can. Um...the angry thing seems t'be well in control, too. Had a pretty normal conversation with Lucien earlier.” "He's starving. It's getting -- bad. I've picked up what I can for him -- Joshua's takin' Aloke on trips too but. The kids need /so/ much. And there's been so many people to -- we can't barely keep up with --" Jax's head shakes. He picks up one of the mugs of cocoa to offer it to Micah. "Tired," he agrees. "An' queasy. Put some ginger in the cocoa. But my brain feels aright. Did you -- see Lucien's notes?" "I saw." Rasheed moves over to Micah's bed, to swab down the injection site on a bicep. "I'll need to do some scans on all of you. Soon. Later tonight. It might take /you/ that long," he murmurs with a small twitch of his mouth towards Jax, "just to remove all that metal from your face." “How dangerous would it be t'hunt the grounds around the school? Seems like a good spot for deer. Just one of those...holds a lot of meat.” Micah accepts the cocoa with a little smile and nod of thanks, then sets it on the bedside table. Instead of drinking cocoa, he holds his arm out to facilitate Rasheed's task. “Did Lucien find somethin' new?” he asks as the other man works, trying not to giggle a little at the metal comment. “Anybody know huntin' up that way, anyhow? I mean...if I can get a few hours' pass crazy-early tomorrow mornin', I could help. Might be better'n just runnin' t'stores.” "School's been organizin' huntin' parties, but there ain't really a lot of -- The twins are the best hunters we got. An' Shane can't hardly walk let alone --" Jackson closes his eyes, rubbing slowly at the bridge of his nose. "I ain't done right by him," he whispers. "B put him in the lake, though, he'll -- catch Shane some fish, get him back -- back on his --" He drops his hands back to his lap, fingers clenching together. "I'll get ready for the scans. And Lucien says --" He stops, reaching out to take his mug of cocoa. "He says it's gone. That my -- that it's clear. When he looked at me. Might could be he'd'a found the same in you." "Might be. We'll see soon enough." Rasheed presses the injector to Micah's arm, one quick poke and then a brief burn afterwards. He goes to toss the used needle into a sharps container. "I'll come get you both in an hour." “Well, if they need me t'help there an' can spare me here, I can help with that. Got enough practice at it.” Micah reaches his free hand over to rub at the back of Jax's neck. “Honey, y'been doin' everythin' in the /world/ lately. Been days since you slept, far as I've seen. We'll figure it. S'been a unique situation we're in. We'll get 'im settled.” His eyes widen at the next bit of news. “Gone? As in cured? You're better?” The worry in his face is eclipsed by excitement. “Jax, that's amazin'! He...said mine was /less/ earlier today. But not gone.” He doesn't even flinch at the injection, his attention focused elsewhere. "Been a while since I slept," Jax agrees, tipping his head down partially to sip at his cocoa and partially to bare his neck further to Micah. "Long while. But there's so much -- been so much." He draws in another long sip of the cocoa. "Gone as in cured," he agrees. "An' I think we been on the same dosin' so if you -- we can hope, right? If this is -- if this is." His hands are shaking around his mug, and he takes another quick gulp so that the cocoa does not slosh out of it. "Might be the start of turnin' this thing around." Rasheed doesn't seem inclined yet to indulge in hope. He throws away his alcohol swabs, glances at the two men, and then heads back out of the room to return to his lab. For an hour. “One hour, thanks, Doc,” Micah calls to Rasheed as he exits. “Well, we got an hour where we gotta sit'n wait, hon, so may as well take the second t'relax. An' just hold on t'this feelin' that maybe they've /got/ it.” He scoots himself forward to sit directly behind Jax, rubbing at his neck more firmly as the other man leans to make room for his hands. “You said 'Bastian took Shane t'school? That means y'all found 'im? How is he?” "He was -- he was fine he looks. /Good/ actually. Healthy. Peter brought him back. I don't know what he been up to out there. Lost his phone fightin' a horde though." Jax rests his elbows on his knees, lowering his mug. His eye closes, shoulders relaxing at the neckrub. "Oh -- oh gosh. Thank you, I --" He swallows. "Classes startin' again on Monday. Wasn't plannin' on it but I asked the Professor -- thought the kids could do with some normal." He stares down into his mug. "Luci -- ain't doin' so well after all this." “Good. Good, that's what I was thinkin', that somethin' happened t'his phone. Explains why he wasn't answerin' nobody. S'the downside t'all the mobile phones, not havin' pay phones around anymore.” Micah settles in to massage more firmly at the tight knots built up in Jax's neck and shoulders. “You gotta start back up with teachin' Monday? Or you gettin' a reprieve, considerin'?” He frowns, not bothering to hide the expression since he is /behind/ Jax and not easily observed. “No, I don't imagine he is. He passed out on me earlier today while we were...doin' pretty much this. Headrubs an' cocoa. Waitin' for soup t'heat. Ain't a one of those researchers tendin' themselves halfway decently. I been tryin' t'keep 'em watched over since I been here, at least.” A heavy sigh of breath passes through his lips, perhaps strong enough to be felt against Jax's skin since they are sitting so close. “I have a friend with some low-level passive healin' ability that I was tryin' t'hook up with 'im /before/ all of this. Might try it again. But he wants to wait until /after/ they find the cure, in case there are unforeseen side effects on 'im.” "Don't explain why he didn't -- /come/ home, though, they --" Jax shakes his head, his shoulders trembling faintly. "Don't think nobody's gonna force me into nothin' but startin' up classes again was my idea, I --" His shoulder lifts and falls, quick and jerky. "I'm glad they got you, honey-honey. I feel bad I ain't been -- well. I'm glad they got you. You're a good -- a good --" It's not disease that stalls Jackson's words; his breath hitches, and he lifts his hand up to curl his fingers around one of Micah's, squeezing tight. "He passed out after he checked me. Few hours ago. Ain't woke up yet. I don't know if he --" Another jerky hitch of shrug. At the jerky movements, Micah stops his massaging and just wraps his arms around Jax, pulling the other man back up against him. “Hey. You got more on your plate'n usual, even. Don't think nobody would mind maybe givin' you a substitute for a minute if y'need it. Y'can't beat yourself up for not bein' sat at home through all of this. Even the kids ain't been...s'too much needs doin' an' y'all are out /doin'/ it. I ain't even been there, neither. Been sittin' 'round here, too. Y'been doin' this since long 'fore I ever came along an' y'done good by those boys.” He presses his hand into Jax's when the other man's squeezes. “Hopefully he just needs some /off/ time. If y'don't give it t'your brain, brain'll /take/ it after awhile. Just gotta...hope that's it for now an' do what we can for 'im once we can.” Jackson sets his mug back down on the tray, half-turning to curl in towards the hug, heedless now of his filthy clothes. He rests his cheek against Micah's shoulder, his arms wrapping back around the older man. "I ain't. I ain't done good Shane nearly died cuz I couldn't even /feed/ him, Micah, I --" His voice hitches again, his eye squeezing shut. He forces his breaths slower, deeper. "You been helpin' make sure /everyone/ makes it out of this. I just. It's so." His fingers curl harder into Micah's shirt. "I hope rest does him alright. I'm scared. He been so -- this's farther than he ever shoulda been pushed. But what else can we do? Jus' let the whole world rot?" Micah squeezes Jax into a tighter hug, one hand moving up to pet at his hair. "Honey, what are y'thinkin' to've done? Materialised meat out of thin air? He's got real specific dietary restrictions an' a crazy-high calorie need. We just ain't /had/ it t'get. Is Joshua free t'night? I can go outside the quarantine zone with 'im an' buy whatever there is t'buy, for a start. An' t'morrow...set up huntin' by the school. Sure /somebody/ has a shotgun or a rifle up that way. If this scan is clean when they do it, they mightn't need me t'stay here full-time anymore." Micah slows his own breathing to guide Jax's, their bodies pressed close as they are. "I think he knows better'n anybody what kind of sacrifices need t'be made for this. I mean...Jax, he /killed/ you before." It takes another deep breath in and out to let him continue speaking. "He's aware of exactly what this is doin'...told me as much this mornin'. /I've/ just been tryin' t'convince him t'keep fightin' for himself an' not take it as an inevitability that this is gonna kill 'im. We're doin' all we can, hon. You included." "We got guns. But guns draw more of 'em, arrows is -- oh my gosh," Jackson interrupts himself to say, "have you /seen/ Luci's bow, it's ridiculous. He's some kinda badass with it, too. At least. When he's --" A shiver passes through him, and he curls in closer to Micah, shrinking in smaller against the other man's chest. "Be nice, though. Gettin' some extra food in, if they -- if you're clean I'm sure they can spare you an' if you're real careful out in the woods -- it ain't been a lot but we get a couple stragglers. Two or three a day roamin' around. Ain't none of 'em made it so far as the school but if you're out there --" He squeezes Micah tighter, fierce, warmth climbing inside him. "I get the feel Luci's been used t'makin' hard calls in hard places long 'fore this. He did right when he done that. If I'd blowed up all this work -- an' even if I hadn't. Fixin' this takes a lot outta him, I think he needed the /rest/." “Didn't mean for the zombies. Meant for the deer or...whatever else. Deer'd prob'ly be the best thing for meat, though. Plus side t'huntin' /correctly/, y'don't actually shoot much. Shootin' means you've /got/ somethin'. 'Til then it's all about bein' /quiet/. I can take someone with me for protection, too, if it's that bad. But if there's only a handful of zombies out there, should be able t'shoot them as easy as anythin' I'm tryin' t'hunt. Maybe easier...they ain't half as clever as most critters.” A small smirk plays its way across Micah's lips. “I haven't seen it but...it seems appropriate, somehow.” He nuzzles into Jax's neck, trying to hold back a grumbly-almost-growling sound at the other man's assertion. “I don't know. I don't have...the best memory or judgement of exactly what happened then. Was...kinda /blindingly/ angry at Lucien after. Might've hurt 'im if I had the chance. Was afraid I would. That's...gone away a lot as this /thing/ has gotten less bad. S'part of why I know I can't trust what I'd been thinkin'. Even helped me t'be able t'report when I was gettin' better. Don't think I've /completely/ forgiven 'im even yet, though.” By this last, Micah's words are murmured softer against Jax's skin. "No, I know. But if you shoot a deer the sound'll draw -- more from around. Hopefully not many." Jackson tips his head, nuzzling in against Micah's neck as well. "Shouldn't /nobody/ be alone out there, though, honey-honey. You take someone. Take B. He'll sniff y'out some prey quicker /an'/ have your back." After this he is only quiet. "I'm so s -- mmnh. Y'shouldn't've had t'see that. I can't imagine how --" He turns his face, lips brushing to Micah's neck. "-- Gotta admit with all this crazy stress s'been hard cuz -- I can't always tell what's been this disease an' what's just. My patience runnin' short with everything." “I'll bring 'im, hon. Don't worry. We'll be careful. Hardest part'll be keepin' any kills away from 'em once we have any.” Micah tenses slightly at the almost-apology, biting at his lip. “It's...not an image I'm /likin'/ havin' around, no. But you're still here an' that's--it makes it a lot less bad. I think that may be the worst of it. Not bein' able t'trust my own head. I've just been pushin' any feelin's about...that away. No point even tryin' t'work through 'em if it's just illusory /illness/ feelin's.” He draws another deep, heavy breath. “He's gotta make it through this. Ain't no kinda fair if he doesn't; he's done so much we wouldn't have been /able/ to without 'im.” "B seemed like he'd been eatin' fine." Jackson sounds a little puzzled at this, but a little relieved as well. "I don't -- I don't think there's a whole lotta this situation that's fair, though, honey-honey. This is worse'n I ever done seen him, he -- if this worked I think you got your mind back, though. If this works I think he done saved everyone." He sits up a little bit farther, leaning down to unstay his boots and kick them off. He drags his legs up onto the mattress, lying down now to lay his head in Micah's lap. "I'm still here." “That's good, at least...somebody's comin' out of this okay. Maybe he found a cold locker somewhere as hadn't been raided yet. Restaurant or somethin'.” Micah shifts to free up Jax's movement to get his boots off. “It's...definitely bad. I'm just hopin' it ain't /irreparable/-bad. Y'think Joshua would be able t'help 'im, if we figured out how to unferret 'im?” He winds his fingers into Jax's hair once the other man's head is resting in his lap, petting and reassuring himself of that presence. “You are. Love you, hon.” He just looks down at Jax, regarding his face as if to memorise the features. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, a light, breathy sort of laugh passing through them. “Really need t'be gettin' all these out if they're puttin' you through an MRI soon, though.” "Joshua might could be able t'help him even /as/ a ferret, he can still yoink other powers. S'just, um, tryin' to get him t'/focus/ lately is -- not. So easy." Jax's eye closes, cheek nuzzling against Micah's thigh. "-- Oh. Oh gosh. There's so /many/. I should --" He grimaces, running fingertips lightly across his lips. "-- strip. Oh gosh. /All/ of them." His fingers start to press at the rings, popping out captive beads to let them fall down into his palm. "I love you, honey-honey." “Yeah, I wouldn't want t'risk 'im /startin'/ some kinda healin' an' gettin' distracted by shiny things in the middle of it.” Micah winces slightly at the thought of what /that/ might cause. “Might be a couple,” he jokes, chuckling and holding his hand out to take the removed rings to free Jax's hands for removing many, many more. “Love you. Prob'ly oughtta get myself back into the scrubs again, too. Metal on more'n half of these clothes.” "He is /so/ easily distracted lately. On the plus side, it's sometimes hard t'be sad lookin' at him. Ferrets are set to fun all the time." Jax matches the beads back up with their rings as he removes them, dropping the rings into Micah's palm. And continuing. For many more. "Mmhmm. If you're gonna be strippin' /too/ I sure wouldn't complain 'bout watchin'." Micah locates an empty Ziploc bag to store the rings in, figuring the sealable container to be the best plan for the manymany tiny rings. “Hmm, prob'ly should get t'that then. Gotta help you get a couple hundred rings out before we hold up the whole research gang.” He smirks, placing the bag on the bedside table before locating a set of scrubs for changing into.